


Sheets

by pillowy



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bedsheet Kink (the way I laughed typing this), Blow Jobs, Blow job during conference call, Brief mention of James and the special little thing they both have with him, Cadet Kink, Captain kink, Cunnilingus, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dorks in Love, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, James kink?, Keith is a Punk and Devote husband all in one, M/M, Married Sex, Oral Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Shiro eats his husband's pert little pussy through their bedsheet, Shiro has certain perversions during his lunchbreak, Shower Sex, Somnophilia, Spit As Lube, Spit Kink, Trans Keith (Voltron), afab language, perverted shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:22:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28579680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pillowy/pseuds/pillowy
Summary: Something playful takes over Shiro’s face when he tries to uncover the sheet from Keith’s chest and Keith doesn’t let him, “No? Not gonna let me touch?”“Nuh-uh,” the same something takes over Keith’s laugh. He’s teasing, acting shy, “Only over the sheets.”Shiro raises a brow. Bemused, “Oh?”
Relationships: Keith & Shiro (Voltron), Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 219





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens after a little giraffe persuades you to watch voltron and single handedly ruins your life. Now I'm obsessed.

Stress. Not even tenacious Captain Shirogane can escape it. Meetings. Many of them, at least one every couple vargas. _MFE_ debriefings. Conference calls, one after the other. 

And growing stacks of unsigned documents, the bane of his existence. He’d rather do anything else. Like patrol the corridors. Or take notes with Slav. Or burrow under the covers and kiss on his husband, whatever. Anything is better than signing those menial, pesky little things.

By the time he excuses himself back to his suite for a late lunch he’s worked up enough tension to write home about. 

It’s quiet inside. The lights are dim, pouring warmth over the couch and all of the picture frames. Starkly different than anywhere else aboard the Atlas, just how Shiro likes it. It’s relieving, low, calm enough to breathe in. The only noise disturbing the silence comes from the soft whir of the dishwasher. 

He checks the time on his datapad and groans at the new wave of pings filtering into his inbox. Something worrisome about the fighter jets. Fucking Slav. And what was that about a delay in the shipment schedule flagged _ASAP_? 

No, it can wait. He closes out of the tab and drops his datapad, both of his pagers, and his earpiece onto the coffee table. He peers down the corridor and sees that the door of the master bedroom has been left open. Just a tad, the sight of it is so inviting that it makes Shiro smile involuntarily. A small, private thing, just to himself. And yeah, scratch that, it _will_ wait. 

He finds Keith naked on the bed, barely covered by their flimsy bedsheet and fast asleep. So peaceful, as though he hasn’t known a moment of trouble his entire life. Even laying like that, on his stomach with his face smushed to the side, arms stretched out under their pillows. The ones that smell like home, and cheek, and shampoo. Snoring. It assaults Shiro’s chest with something big and tender. Sometimes, just looking at Keith makes him want to cry. 

And who could blame Shiro for coming a little closer? And staring, quite blatantly. Nobody, in any universe, thinks Shiro. 

There isn’t anything lovelier than the naked curve of Kieth’s pale back, Shiro is absolutely sure of it. And the swell of his ass, simply delicious, practically eating at the sheet dissolving over his legs. The kicker is his tiny, upside-down foot. Just the one, peeking out from underneath the sheets.

Shiro groans again, this time for all sorts of different reasons. He thinks about curling into the space beside his husband and breathing him in. All at once, because he is stressed and it has been such a long, tiring day. He deserves some sugar, doesn’t he? He’s earned it. But Keith looks so beautiful, and Shiro is nothing if not a patient, indulgent man. So he doesn’t wake him. Not just yet. 

Not before tracing a finger down the column of Keith’s spine and pinching, barely, at the sheet covering the dip above his tailbone. So light it makes Keith shudder in his sleep. Shiro blows hot air through his nose, he really can’t help himself, and refuses to let go. He ghosts over his thigh, persistent enough to feel Keith’s warmth through the sheet but soft enough not to wake him. Not yet.

He touches the spot behind Keith’s knee where Shiro knows Keith is ticklish and wonders how long it would take Keith to wake up if he were to slither under the sheet and press his mouth to it. A couple of ticks, maybe. And that pink foot. Stars. There is something so youthful about it, sticking out like that. Kieth is such a playful little thing, even in his sleep, isn’t he? If Shiro grabbed him by the ankle and dragged him to the edge of the bed right up against Shiro’s lap, how easily would Keith wake then? Instantly, probably. How long would it take for Keith to feel it, _Shiro_ , pressing up against him?

“ _Shi_?” Keith rouses, entirely groggy and needy in that pouty Where are you? sort of way. Too sleepy to feel embarrassed about it. Shiro beams, he must’ve done something right to deserve the side of Keith that needs.

“I’m right here,” Shiro grins down at him and realizes he’d been caressing Keith’s foot. It’s probably what stirred him awake. Shiro’s the one who should be embarrassed, his ears go hot as he snaps out of it and draws away. 

Keith blinks up at Shiro and breaks into a slow, boyish smile, slumpy with sleep. Too sleepy to notice that Shiro’s hand had just been on him, feeling out the sole of his foot. Good, thinks Shiro. He likes his little secrets. 

“Hello my darling.”

“Mm.” Keith returns his face to the pillow, nodding into it as he agrees with what he’s about to say, “Good nap.” 

“Was it?” Shiro muses, reaching for Keith’s hair and grooming the clammy bits away from his forehead. Keith sighs into Shiro’s touch and nuzzles, content enough to let his eyes flutter shut for another wink of sleep. Keith is like a kitty-cat, too sweet for his own good.

Shiro bends down and kisses the tip of his husband’s nose to wake him back up.

Keith yawns, coming to himself, “You’re home early?” 

“I wish. I gotta go back soon.”

Kieth catches a good look at him and hums knowingly, “Long day?”

It isn’t lost on Shiro. How well Keith knows him. How he doesn’t have to explain the look on his face or the tone of his voice because Keith can tell. Of all the lives they’ve lived, together and apart, Keith just _knows_. He accepts them, Shiro’s dispositions. And Shiro would never take it for granted, the particular way Keith’s eyes soften at the sight of Shiro’s distress.

“Long day,” Shiro confirms.

“Aw.” Keith rolls onto his back and opens his arms, “Come here, big guy.”

Shiro feels himself blush like he hadn’t been shamelessly molesting his sleeping husband’s foot. But now that Keith’s awake he’s feeling sulkier than ever. He huffs and puffs like a toddler and positively melts into his husband’s arms.

Shiro immediately relaxes, acutely aware of his clunky uniform and Keith’s lack thereof. He simply adores the sticky smell of Kieth’s neck. 

Keith rubs silly patterns into his shoulder, “Who am I beating up?”

Shiro makes a frustrated, unintelligible noise into Keith’s neck and hugs both arms around his waist. The sheet rides down Keith’s stomach and pools across his navel, the only thing keeping Keith from laying completely naked in Shiro’s arms. He feels Keith’s gentle laugh vibrate against his cheek and has half a mind to call it a day then and there. 

Keith takes Shiro’s face in his hands and pulls him by his cheeks till they are both looking right at one another, “Look at that mean face, what happened?”

When Shiro doesn’t answer right away, “Was it Slav again?”

Shiro purses his lips, “And Holt.” He loves feeling indulged by Keith. It sometimes throws him back to age three, but still. 

Keith smooths down the creases on his forehead with his thumb, “What did they do?”

Shiro sighs, “They don’t leave well enough alone.”

“They are scientists? That’s pretty much their job?”

“It doesn’t make it okay,” Shiro frowns. He knows he’s being melodramatic. “And I have so much shit to sign.”

Kieth listens intently, looking at him with that soft, fond thing in his eyes that Shiro loves so much and urges him to let it all out. 

“Nonstop pings.”

Kieth nods like it’s as serious as the end of the world, “Baby is stressed.” Not a question, just the way his husband baby-talks him whenever he’s upset. Shiro loves it. Can’t get enough, can he?

“My poor baby,” Keith cradles Shiro by the nape. “He works so hard.”

Shiro dramatically plops his face onto Keith’s chest. He noses at his collarbone and allows himself to feel forlorn, “Should sign myself out of the chain of command.”

“Oh?” wonders Keith. He lifts Shiro’s face up again and gazes at him fondly, like he knows something Shiro doesn’t. Keith just has this lilt to him, “Who would be my Captain then?”

Well, Shiro’s nose goes red, “When you say it like _that_.”

Keith brings Shiro in for a kiss, and then, on the tip of his tongue, “Like what?”

Oh, “You’re so good,” Shiro smiles, big and bright. And anyway, Keith is right, who else but Shiro could be his Captain? They have massive robots to fly. A universe to protect, “You make everything better.”

Kieth is just so dreamy. Shiro can hardly handle it, “Why can’t I have you with me all day?” 

“I’ll sneak into your office?” he says. “Hide under your big desk?”

“Mmm,” Shiro nods into Keith’s hands, their faces close enough to bite. He likes that idea very much, “If only I could keep you there all day. Maybe bolt a hook somewhere down there, hm?” the way he breathes on Keith, this close, makes him feel dirty. “Collar you to it, nice and tight. Keep the Black Paladin all to myself, how does that sound?”

Keith meets his eyes with something like mirth but Shiro knows better, “And somehow, even with me between your legs, you’d still find a way to work yourself silly.” 

He loves to tease Shiro about his work ethic, doesn’t he? 

Shiro squeezes around Keith’s waist for that, like he’s trying to stop himself from seizing him in every way imaginable. The shape of Keith’s waist makes Shiro’s hands feel massive. He flattens his palms against the skin there and flirts with it a little before dragging up his back. Keith’s body is taut, trained for battle, mighty and beautiful. Pert. It fits so beautifully in Shiro’s grasp. 

“You think?” Shiro asks, eyes flicking to Keith’s mouth, “Even with my cock stuffed in that pretty little mouth?”

And it’s like Shiro can feel the lust blackening Keith’s eyes just as much as he can see it. Right in front of him, a breath away. It’s very provocative, that gaze. Blue, dark, narrow, the least bit coy. Like Keith’s just now realising he’s entirely naked under Shiro, save for the sheet covering his hips. And he’s feeling bashful about it. Doesn’t want to draw attention to it. But there's confidence in him, taking shape in his smile, alluring, knowing. Keith knows he’s something special. It captivates Shiro. Reminds him of a time when Keith was younger. When they raced to the sunset in the desert and Keith looked back at him after an overtake. It’s that same face now. 

“Is that what you think about at work?” he asks. 

Shiro nods, still staring at Keith’s mouth, “Like picturing myself fucking it.” 

Keith gives him a look that’s all, Be Careful What You Wish For, and bunches the sheet in the space between them. He giggles till he’s pulled it all the way up his chest and tucked it right up under his chin. Like he’s trying to keep Shiro away, out of harm’s way. 

The gesture is so soft and so Keith that it melts at Shiro’s resolve like fingers pulling butter, “Baby.” 

Keith wiggles underneath him like he loves nothing more than being Shiro’s baby and all of the conference call bullshit suddenly doesn't seem so bad. 

Something playful takes over Shiro’s face when he tries to uncover the sheet from Keith’s chest and Keith doesn’t let him, “No? Not gonna let me touch?”

“Nuh-uh,” the same something takes over Keith’s laugh. He’s teasing, acting shy, “Only over the sheets.”

Shiro raises a brow. Bemused, “Oh?”

Keith nods, so sure of himself even though he’s still red from talking about having Shiro’s cock in his mouth.

That’s alright with Shiro, he thinks, as his eyes gaze over the soft outline of Keith’s body from under the sheet. He can work with this. He brings kisses down Keith’s chest. Once, twice, right where his heart beats. Keith shakes with laughter, vibrating on Shiro’s lips. And Shiro laughs too, before opening his mouth over Keith’s nipple and laving a wet spot onto the sheet. He bites on it and feels Keith’s chest fill with air. Shiro wonders how red it must look in comparison to the nipple he didn’t touch, roughed up against the sheet and Shiro’s front teeth. 

Keith’s making noise as though it hurts, trying to wiggle away from Shiro. Practically mewling. Breathy little _ow, ow, ows_ that dissolve the kinder half of Shiro’s sanity. 

Shiro tilts his head up and meets Keith’s eyes with something cruel, “Only over the sheets,” he reiterates Keith rule, asinine, and goes back to kissing. This time light, barely pressing Keith’s skin from under the sheet, so light they tickle. On his clavicle, a tender apology for bruising his nipple. Under his breast, tiny, teasing. 

“Mmn,” Shiro pulls the sheet taught over the perfect trim of Keith’s waist. It drives Shiro mad, makes him whisper to himself, “So small.” Lithe. Almost demure, if not for the indents of sturdy muscle Shiro begins to feel out with his mouth. Strong. Shiro knows how easily Keith could flip them around and pin Shiro beneath him. The thought makes Shiro’s head spin. Keith is dizzying. “So pretty,” he noses the dip on the inside of Keith’s hip bone.

“Enjoying yourself?” Keith asks, a little short of breath. 

Shiro smiles against Keith. Drags his face against Keith’s stomach and plants a loud, spittled raspberry over his belly button. Keith curls off the bed with the feeling, laughing curses at Shiro as he hikes his knees up to his stomach in an attempt to ward Shiro off. 

“So much,” Shiro nuzzles, hugging Keith’s belly to his face. “I enjoy you so much, baby.”

Shiro lets Keith knee at him and takes the opportunity to make himself cosy between his thighs. He feels at them through the sheet and lays his face on Keith’s navel. It’s like Shiro could inhale Keith like this, in the comfort of their bed. Take Keith in. His warm, sleepy smell. And Keith lets him. Beautiful Keith. Strong, ferocious Keith lets Shiro take. For Shiro’s pleasure. At Shiro’s leisure. Like Keith belongs to Shiro, and he does, simple stupid. 

“Baby?” Shiro raises a brow at Keith. “What are you doing?” the sheets mess and pull as Keith’s thighs nudge up his neck and surround his face... “Are we about to spar?”

Keith offers Shiro a tiny, evil little laugh before locking his legs around Shiro’s head. The sheet rides down Keith’s stomach. Yes. The answer is yes, apparently they are about to spar. Barely. Shiro expertly brings his palms to the backs of Keith’s thighs in an attempt to pry Keith’s grapple off him but, “You sneaky little...” it’s a useless counter. The sheet rustles as Keith twists underneath them to perfectly trap Shiro’s head in place. Between his thighs, facing up at Keith. It’s an effective enough chokehold, restricting blood flow to Shiro’s brain. Somehow the sheet remains, Keith’s just that impressive, separating Shiro’s face from Keith’s skin. 

His smile devastates Shiro. A winner’s smile, as though he’s gotten the upper hand on Shiro. “Gonna tap out?” he squeezes Shiro’s face a little tighter between his legs. 

Shiro thinks Keith’s attitude is funny. He sinks his face just so, onto the warmth of Keith’s pussy. Why would he ever tap out of it? He presses his nose down the slope of Keith’s pubic bone and breathes in as much air as his lungs can afford in a chokehold. Smells good. Shiro can smell it from beneath the fresh sheet. That tangy, whispering heat of Keith’s. Sweet. Acrid. Intoxicating. 

“Don’t make such a show of it,” Keith chides. He moves a little out of place, allowing Shiro a proper breath. 

“Don’t be embarrassed baby,” Shiro’s mouth spreads into a grin against Keith. Muffled by fabric, “Where did all of that spunk go huh?”

Keith pulls at Shiro’s hair, “Don’t say spunk this close to my…” he fades off.

The moment ignites. “Your what, baby?”

Keith whines. Shakes his head in refusal, too abashed to reply.

Shiro’s eyes turn black, “Your pretty little pussy?” he asks. Nipping at the sheet, “This one right here?”

Keith flushes down to his chest. Shivers. Shiro is briefly distracted by the ring-sized bite mark encircling Keith’s nipple. The least bit swollen. He’s obsessed with the way it looks in comparison to the one he didn’t touch. Aesthetics. 

“Go on, tell me.”

Keith looks away from Shiro, looks back, and away again. He nods tinily at the wall.

Cute, but that’s not going to be good enough for Shiro. “Use your words baby.”

Somehow-- maybe the tone of Shiro’s voice--Keith knows Shiro won’t be taking no for an answer.

“My..” Keith starts.

“Nuh-uh. Look at me, baby.”

Keith gives in and looks, “ _My pretty little pussy_.”

Yeah. Shiro opens his mouth over the sheet and flattens his tongue against the pillowy outline of Keith’s pussy lips. Smothers it, really. Gathers spit on it. When Keith wiggles away, Shiro's mouth hangs off Keith’s pussy by a string of saliva. 

Shiro chases it, “Don’t run from me baby, I’ve had a tough day.” He eats the string of saliva and pulls him back by his thighs, “Just let me adore you.” 

Keith can’t argue with that, can he? 

The sheet goes damp from Shiro’s drool. It sticks deliciously to Keith’s pussy, an exact silhouette. Shiro blows on it just to watch it twitch from the cold feeling. He slides his hand across Keith’s hips and presses down in such a way that forces Keith’s pussy to arch forward for him. Blows on it again.

“That’s my boy. Perfect,” Shiro reaches below Keith’s navel and taps Keith’s pussy with his palm. Cups it. Hooks his thumb into the chubby apex of Keith’s fold and squishes the sheet between it. Just a little, just to see it pinch at the fabric.

“Shiro,” Keith sounds appalled. He stares down at him, watching the way he latches onto his pussy like he can’t believe it. Can’t believe Shiro’s playing with his pussy through their bedsheet. 

“Shhh,” Shiro brings his index finger to Keith’s pussy lips and shushes it. Gives it a kiss. Pulls away so he can roll the fabric between his fingers, index and thumb, to feel the slimy wetness of Keith’s pussy seeping through the friction of the thin sheet. 

"I knew you liked it baby,” Shiro coos. 

Keith hisses when Shiro’s fingers sink between him and poke his clit. Shiro can’t stop talking to it, “Yeah.” He nods at it, “I know just how much this hungry cunt craves my attention.” 

Keith’s had enough. Takes Shiro by the hair and pulls him onto his pussy, “Shut up.”

Shiro groans into it, tastes like _Keith_. He bites gently on his clit as though he’s determined to eat through the sheet to get at that angry little pussy. 

“Suck on it,” Keith demands, breathless.

Shiro smothers himself on it, “ _Ly’ thish_?” he asks. 

Keith swells on his mouth. Throbs. Once, twice. Shiro pulls away the slightest bit and whispers into Keith’s pussy, “Oh baby. Feels good doesn’t it?” 

Keith nods down at him, “Shiro.. I m-might, I want to..”

Keith wants to come. Fuck. The thought of Shiro making Keith come from this dismantles Shiro. Sends him into a tizzy. Excites him. Keith must come, it’s the principle of the damn thing.

Shiro’s cock is so hard he feels as though it might poke a hole through their bed. It’s lonely. It’s had a tough day. But Shiro is Keith’s greatest admirer. His concern is Keith’s pert little pussy. Needs to treat it right. Make it feel good. He kisses it again. Open-mouthed and meaningful, with tongue and teeth. 

Above Shiro, Keith throws his head back against the pillows strewn on their bed and positively sings for more. It’s hateful, the way he fists Shiro’s hair and rocks onto his face like he’s with fever. The sheet is disgustingly wet, coarse against Shiro’s cheek, sopping spit and filth down his chin. Keith’s skin must be so raw. But Shiro likes that it hurts. Likes that it hurts Keith. He glues himself to Keith's pussy and slobbers on it like a happy dog.

Keith _shakes_. Keeps trying to squeeze his knees together. Craves that squish. Shiro’s hands don’t let him. Keeps him spread apart by the back of his thighs as he suckles on Keith’s pussy like he would a maraschino cherry. It makes Keith desperate. He lets go of Shiro’s hair only to pull on his own, looking down at his slick-covered pussy as though it scares him, “Make it come.”

Oh.

Shiro presses his middle finger under Keith’s clit and rubs against the sheet so fast it burns. Shiro can see it, Keith’s chubby little clit, bulbing out from the sopped up sheet. It looks so wrong. Shiro humps into the bed to ease the heat thumping up his cock. 

Keith pants throughout his whole body. Shiro’s head bobs along to the feverish rise and fall of Keith’s breathing as he returns his mouth to Keith’s cunt. 

Keith is frantic, he claws at the sheet and tries to tear it from his pussy. “Please,” he begs. It “H-hurts.”

Shiro doesn’t let him, brings his forearm over Keith’s stomach to hold him down and keep Keith’s hands from tearing at the sheet. Shiro is a great man. A leader. A heroic man, but he’s animal for Keith’s pretty cunt. 

Sinister intent burbles in his gut, “Only over the sheets.” 

Keith’s pussy throbs as he writhes under Shiro’s hold. “Good,” Shiro says to it as Keith gives in and arches for Shiro’s touch. “That’s a good little boy,” like he’s tamed it. 

“ _Yes yes yes_ ,” Keith nods his assent down at Shiro, eyes bleary, beautiful and dark. He is a good boy.

Shiro latches his mouth onto Keith’s cunt and collects saliva over his clit. He drags his finger down to prod at Keith’s hole through the sheet as he sucks Keith’s clit into the heat of his mouth. Keith heaves, Shiro’s fingers only tease at his hole, but they are unkind. He shallowly presses the sheet into Keith’s pussy and feels it try to take him in. It’s such an eager little pussy. 

Shiro suffocates Keith’s clit with his tongue and the pressure of it vibrates Keith’s clit in such a way, “Please _please_ , I’m gonna..” Keith implores.

Keith is a greedy thing. His knees clack against Shiro’s head as he tries to make his pussy feel good by squishing his thighs together as close as he can. Keith’s almost there, teetering over some faraway precipice Shiro’s taken him to. But Shiro knows Keith needs his asshole played with to come. He drags his middle finger down Keith’s perineum and plugs the pad of his finger above it. No penetration, just Shiro threatening the fibres of the sheet against that dirty, forbidden little place.

“Yes _yes_ ,” The pressure mounts, peaks, and tips Keith over the edge. 

Shiro hums into Keith like a predator as he feels Keith’s orgasm weep from his body, navel convulsing under Shiro’s palm as he chases bliss off Shiro’s mouth. 

Keith shoves Shiro’s unrelenting mouth away from him once he’s strung out his fill of pleasure, too sensitive to seek more.

“Baby,” Shiro doesn’t even waste a breath. Wipes the drool from his chin on the sleeve of his Captain’s livery. “Need to see it,” he tears the sheet in half, desperate. “Fuck.” He grabs Keith by his thighs and opens him wide, “Come here.”

Keith’s pussy is licked raw. Puffy. Just looking at it makes Shiro feel disgusting. Like a pervert. A savage, surely, for wanting nothing else than to fuck his throbbing cock into something so drippy and _aching_.

It’s red and dreamy, coated in its own syrup. Shiro is a man obsessed, feels the need to treat it gently. He reaches for Keith and delicately spreads it apart with his thumb.

“Look at that,” his labia unsticks from itself in slow motion. Keith hisses at the contact.

“Darling. Does it hurt?”

“Mhm,” Keith pouts. “Kiss it better.”

Shiro clucks happily and obliges. Keith whimpers uselessly as he kisses it once more, and once more after that before laying his head against Keith’s hip and taking Keith’s hands into his own. 

“Oh my goodness,” Keith mewls. “Shiro.. I can’t believe we.. And I just.. You? I mean--” 

“Shhh.” He kisses each of Keith’s fingers for the comedown, “I have you.”

They stay like that for a little. Shiro draws hearts across Keith’s thighs as he tells him about how training went that morning. They talk about dinner, Keith tells Shiro they’ll have whatever he likes as he traces the outline of his nose. His scar. His cheek. His lips. Shiro settles against the down of Keith’s belly and allows himself to doze for a while. His eyes close. Keith, he dreams. Keith, I love you and our peach fuzz life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (˵ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°˵)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Tell me a secret?” asks Shiro.
> 
> “Is this your way of stalling before you have to go?”
> 
> “Yep.”
> 
> Keith’s smile is big and nearly as bright as his eyes, “A secret?”
> 
> “Yes,” Shiro grins. “Anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know! I don't know what this silly little thing is!!!! I'm even a little shy about it, Shiro is such a big dumb sexy dork! Keith is an angel!! What else is there to know?

“Hey big guy.” 

“Mmm,” Keith’s still caressing his face as he comes to. “How long have I been out?”

“About 15.”

Shiro frowns, “Boo.”

“When do you gotta go back?”

“Hmph,” Shiro dreads the thought. “After you let me take care of you,” he leans between Keith’s legs and kisses the top of his pussy. What sort of husband would he be if he didn’t tend to Keith after licking him raw? He gives it another kiss for good measure, “How about a shower?”

Keith smiles at Shiro, lazy and crooked, and Shiro smiles back. “Kay,” Keith murmurs contentedly, showing no signs of getting out of bed.

Shiro laughs. He half expects Keith to turn over and fall back asleep like a house cat. “Come on then,” he lifts Keith off the bed and takes him into his arms.

Keith loops his arms around Shiro’s neck and brings him into a ginger kiss. Chaste. So light their lips barely stick. 

“Hi,” Keith breathes against his mouth. Shiro hikes him further up his chest and Keith lazily latches his legs behind Shiro’s waist like two halves of a whole. 

“Hello.” Shiro simpers back and both of them catch sight of the destroyed sheet, tangled at the foot of the bed, spittled and sad.

Keith grimaces, “I liked those you know.”

“Hey now. So did I.”

Keith narrows his eyes at the brutalized thing, “Doesn’t look like it.”

“Touché,” Shiro kisses his nose. “They were expensive too.” 

“Worth it,” both Keith and Shiro say at the same time. 

_So_ worth it.

They laugh, loud and true, forehead to forehead. Shiro nearly knocks them against the doorway because of it, “Woah there. Steady?”

Keith’s bare thighs clench around Shiro’s hips, “Snug as a bug.” 

“Baby,” Shiro makes a sound caught between a snicker and a bark, “That just might be the silliest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Shut it,” he fiddles with the thick lines of gold regalia lining Shiro’s shoulder, “this looks uncomfortable.”

Shiro clucks as he leads them into the ensuite, “If you want me to get naked you should just say so, baby.”

“It’s only fair, Shiro, I’m naked so you should be too.”

For a moment Shiro is assaulted by the reality that is his husband Keith, naked and dripping, dangling from his neck like decoration. Shiro squeezes his ass cheek, “Is that right?”

Keith tilts Shiro by his chin so their eyes meet, “May I take all of your clothes off Captain Shirogane?”

Hot liquid bleeds into Shiro’s gut. He can’t handle it. The way Keith smoulders makes his blood boil. 

“Y-yes,” Shiro nods heartily, of course Keith could undress him. By all and any means, he clears his throat, “You may.”

Keith leans in and breathes into his ear, “Call me your cadet.”

The inside of Shiro’s mouth turns to gravel. He sets Keith down atop the bathroom counter and snarls, “Insubordinate, vulgar little boy. Are you trying to keep me here all day cadet?” low, raspy, filled with malice.

Keith salutes him. 

Slack and unpracticed, naked on the countertop with a cheeky smile on his face. Shiro can’t believe it. It’s disrespectful, a mockery, reminds Shiro of Keith before he left for Kerberos. That sly smile and that knowing look in his beautiful, impossibly dark eyes. That little Punk. It revolts Shiro, makes him feel like he’s crazy.

Shiro seizes him by the throat and spits down his nose. _Yeah_. That should teach him. He makes room for himself between Keith’s thighs and smears their mouths together. It isn’t a kiss, thinks Shiro, it’s a smear, hateful and obscene. Keith’s mouth smacks as Shiro pulls away only to lap up his spit from the side of Keith’s nose and feed it to him on his tongue. He curves his tongue along the inside of Keith’s cheek and Keith opens up for it like he enjoys having his teeth and gums licked at. 

“Can you taste it?” Shiro knows he can.

“Shiro,” Keith shudders. “Yes.” 

Like skin and slick, “Your pretty cunt, on my lips?”

Keith can barely nod with Shiro’s hands this high up on his throat, just sucks Shiro’s tongue into his mouth and moans around its lingering taste. He blinks real lovely, like he means it, and humps his pussy against Shiro’s pants. 

It softens Shiro immediately. Keith clasps Shiro’s hands with his own and brings them from his throat to his lips. “You’re so pent up,” he begins to kiss each of Shiro’s prosthetic knuckles, “let me help.”

Is anything in the universe more vexing than Keith? Rude cadet to devout husband in the blink of an eye.

He brings Shiro’s prosthetic hand to his face and nuzzles his cheek into its touch. Keith is so tiny. Shiro thumbs over Keith’s lip as Keith undoes the buttons of his jacket. A fond, delicate thing washes over Keith’s face as he concentrates on unclasping Shiro’s uniform. It undoes Shiro, makes him feel like a man. A worthy man. A good man. A husband. 

“There we go,” he helps Shiro out of his jacket and places it neatly on the counter next to him. Underneath, Shiro wears a plain t-shirt. Keith flicks a speck of fluff from it before lifting it up his stomach and tucking it into his armpit to reveal his chest. 

Shiro’s always been a little insecure about his scars. He grazes Keith’s lip with his thumb, “You’re staring.”

Keith runs a gentle finger over the scar on Shiro’s breastbone and kisses the edge of it, “You’re beautiful.” The tenderness Keith lavishes Shiro with makes Shiro feel like a liquid sunset. The very one from their hoverbike desert years and years ago, bloody and fleeting. 

Shiro lets out a tiny wine. 

Keith tilts his head at him and Shiro wants so badly to hell him, No, Keith, baby, you’ve got it all wrong, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever known. But Keith looks at him like a man who's been in love with him since he was a boy, hopelessly, and the words melt on his tongue like powdered sugar.

Keith peels Shiro’s undershirt from his body and glides his palms across the width of his bare chest. Heart, collarbone, shoulder. And back again, shoulder, collarbone, heart. Shiro feels like he might burn inside out, he just wants to collapse Keith on his cock. 

_Keith. Keith, Keith, Keith._

Shiro’s pager starts to ring from somewhere in the living room and Keith grabs him by the belt and flips their positions, bracketing Shiro up against the sink before he can think to leave and grab it.

Keith fixes him with a look, “Stay.” He backs away slowly, in case Shiro tries anything funny. Shiro does as he’s told and Keith calls out to him from the hallway, “Good boy.”

Keith comes back with Shiro’s pager and drops to his knees between Shiro’s legs. The pager still rings.

“Baby?” 

“Shh,” he smiles up at Shiro. He taps on the pager and brings it to his ear. The sight of Keith on his knees, naked with Shiro’s pager held against his cheek does dangerous things to his brain. 

“Hi Veronica,” he meets Shiro’s eyes, “just wanted to let you know Captain Shirogane won’t be answering any of his calls till tomorrow morning. Thanks.” Shiro hears some chatter on the other end before Keith abruptly hangs up. 

Keith’s incredulous, Shiro tells him. He’s _bad_.

“Mhm,” Keith agrees. He pulls on Shiro’s belt buckle, “I’m gonna get you in trouble aren’t I?”

Shiro twirls a strand of Keith’s hair, “Probably.”

Keith unzips Shiro’s pants, “I better make myself useful then.”

The pager rings again. A special, shrill ringtone that Keith also recognizes, letting them know that it’s relatively important. But Shiro’s much less frantic about his duties than he was before he came home and got his face between Keith’s thighs. Now he’s at Keith’s mercy. He smiles down at Keith, who smiles up at him, and wonders what Keith, that outrageous little spitfire might do about Iverson on the other line. 

Keith answers the pager.

“Keith.”

“Iverson,” Keith puts the pager on speaker and places it on his lap. Shiro likes the way Keith handles his pager, boyish and rude. Likes the way it looks on his lilac thighs. Shiro decides Keith should probably become his secretary. 

Since knowing Keith, has there been a single day when Shiro wasn’t awestruck by him? It’s a little thing (it’s always the little things), the way he gets on his knees and flattens his thighs against the floor, claves puddled on either side of him. Baby boy. 

Keith is Darling.

Iverson is saying something to Keith but Shiro isn’t listening. Keith’s legs are the prettiest he’s ever seen. Shiro thinks Keith only sits like that because it squishes good on his pussy. Shiro’s cheeks still sting with spit and bedsheet and he imagines how raw his cheeks might feel if Keith sat on his face and let him tongue into that squish. 

Iverson is hounding for Shiro to meet him in the conference room. Something about that _ASAP_ ping from earlier. It’s clear from the commotion on the other end that Iverson’s not alone. But, “That won’t be necessary,” says Keith, “he can talk to you right now.” 

There’s a pause, and Keith raises his eyebrow at Shiro with unspoken words, wondering, Aren’t you going to say anything?

Shiro’s throat is fucked though. “ _Hello_?” he clears his throat. “Hello.”

Keith mutes the call and pulls Shiro’s pants and briefs down his legs as though he hasn’t already scandalized Shiro enough, “I want everyone on the Atlas to know you’re fucking your husband for lunch.” 

Keith is bad for Shiro’s health. He’s the real reason his hair is grey. And Keith just sits there, looking curious and expecting Shiro to form coherent thought after saying something so debilitating. 

“Baby. Are you really going to make me talk to them?” he pouts. 

Keith chuckles, “Yes.”

“I have half a mind to take you into the conference room and bend you over that big, long table. Don’t make that face at me, I know you’d like it.”

Keith’s eyes shine like he loves the idea, “Take the call, Shiro.” 

“Can’t I take you to the shower instead?” 

“You can. But first I want to kiss on Captain’s cock while he takes his very _important_ call.”

It’s a good thing Shiro performs well under pressure. It’s a very good thing. He takes the pager and unmutes the call, “What is this about a delayed shipment?” he drags his palm down Keith’s cheek and pats the side of his face. 

Iverson huffs and begins to list the many things of importance that have come up since Shiro got home. He seems to be worried about a damaged transport vessel carrying large supplies of non-quintessence fuel for their lesser fighter-jets.

Shiro mutes the call and steps out of his clothes. He tosses them to the side and takes Keith by the hair, “Listen to this bullshit baby.”

There’s something wild in Keith’s eyes as he brings a finger to his lips. _Shhhh_ , as though Keith didn’t almost get himself kicked out of the garrison all of those years ago and that one time that he did. “Pay attention, Captain.”

Shiro thinks he might have a shushing kink. He tightens his fist in Keith’s hair and points Keith to his hard cock. For a moment, before Keith removes his finger from his lip, it looks as though Keith’s shushing his cock, and Shiro can’t help how perverted it makes him feel, “Suck on it baby. Make yourself useful, help me focus.”

Keith does. He drags his nose down the redhot length of it and breathes it into his mouth. 

Shiro sets the pager on the countertop next to him before he accidentally disintegrates it in his prosthetic hand. Iverson asks him what he thinks about this and that, and so and such, and Shiro somehow manages to hold a conversation, suddenly composed, even with Keith’s hot tongue on him. Or rather, _because_ of Keith’s hot tongue on him. 

It’s encouraging, the way Keith peppers kisses down his cock, like he’s giving Shiro a chance to speak between pauses of mounting pleasure. Keith is such a good husband. He does everything he can to help Shiro be the best Captain he can be. 

Shiro controls himself, “Dock the transport at the nearest base and resupply a second and third shipment of supplies onto a different spaceship.” 

He’s a good leader. A good Captain, he knows exactly what must be done. He’s never liked making decisions like these on behalf of the Atlas, he’s never wanted a desk job, but he does at this moment, with Keith drooling down the side of his cock. For this happiness, playing Captain while Keith’s juicy mouth spreads thin around his cock, he would do anything.

“And delay the shipment further?” asks Iverson.

Shiro won’t lie and say that Iverson doesn’t sometimes bother him. It’s this very back and forth that stresses him out, he never signed up for shallow work. It matters little to Shiro what happens to excess stores of fuel, he finds it silly to discuss. Nearly insulting. They aren’t negotiating a peace treaty, or liberating oppressed peoples, or restoring a dead planet. Shiro doesn't enjoy worrying about things that matter little. 

The notion unsettles Shiro in an ugly way, like he should be doing more to make a difference. Like he hasn’t done enough, but those are feelings for another story. Angry, solemn feelings he tucks into his blueberry heart. He’s lucky to have Keith, though, to ground him when things like this rile him up. 

And rile him up they do, but Keith’s gotten so good at taking Shiro’s cock down his throat he doesn’t choke anymore. Shiro needs to be a little cruel to make it happen. He plugs Keith’s nose and stares down at him till his throat bloats. Does Keith know how gorgeous he looks swallowing Shiro down and choking on it? Shiro can’t handle it, seeing Keith beneath him, at his feet while he’s made to deal with Iverson’s shallow questions. And Keith takes it, sputtles on Shiro’s cock so lovingly his eyes begin to water. 

Those terribly dark eyes, awash with starry devotion, giving Shiro something pretty to look at. Blinking, wet-lashed, blue, allowing Shiro to use him as a stress toy. 

Shiro wonders if they can hear Keith’s wet throat, gagging on his cock. He hopes they can. 

“Atlas has more than enough fuel for the jets to sustain a delayed shipment,” Shiro still can’t believe he has to make every little decision regarding every little thing. Surely someone else could handle this mundanity, he thinks, but then Keith is taking him down his throat and it feels so good and it is so distracting that it soothes him, “Why rush to get the cargo here when we could dock more supplies on top of an already insufficient shipment?” 

Keith pats his thigh like he’s said something smart. Like Shiro is his show-horse. Like he’s proud of the way Shiro composes himself to handle this. He won't lie, the mere thought of Keith following along to the conversation while sucking on his cock does something for him, no matter how simple. What an attentive boy Keith is. 

“So we wait?”

“Yes.” He grins down at Keith, brushing hair from his cheek. Shiro’s always been passionate about protecting the sky he spent his childhood gazing up at, but he’s never been one to take himself so seriously when it came to military semantics. Especially not about menial fuel supplies, and most especially not when he’s got Keith on his knees. Actually, there’s something of a rebel in him. Something of a cheeky bastard. Something he’s had all along that Keith's presence always brings out of him. So, because he’s got Keith between his legs, and because he feels so inclined, “Patience yields focus does it not?”

Keith bobs his head on Shiro’s cock, agreeing. He loves how ridiculous they are. Keith is the cheekiest, most darling thing. Shiro wishes he could take all of his meetings like this.  
  
  


“And what of the _MFE_ scout mission in the Javeeno system?” asks Iverson.

Keith mouths at Shiro’s ballsack, “That’s right.” Shiro can hardly keep his voice straight, his cock looks too obscene resting against Keith’s tiny face. Red. Angry. Wet. “How far did you get into the outer reaches?”

Can they tell how fucked out their Captain is?

Someone clears their throat on the other end, “Pretty far. Lots of rocks and space garbage.” It’s James. It shouldn’t turn Shiro on knowing James is there but it does. They’ve always had a special little thing for him. “We found a dead planet made of ice. Leifsdottir thinks we can mine it for raw energy.” 

“Did you bring a sample?”

“Yes.”

Keith’s being so noisy. Making a mess of it, Shiro can tell that Keith likes that James is there too. “Good,” Shiro hopes James can hear it, Keith slurping on his balls. “Holt and Slav are going to want a look at that. I expect a report on my desk by morning.”

James coughs, “Captain.”

Shiro grins, James can definitely hear it and so can everyone else present. “That won’t be a problem will it?”

“Yes sir! I mean... no s-sir. No problem.”

“And will that be all?” Shiro asks.

“Yes Captain,” says James.

“Yes Captain,” repeats Iverson. “For now.”

When it comes to Keith, Shiro is shameless, especially when it feels so... “Good. I won’t be available for a long while, I’ll be fucking my husband silly. Dismissed.”

  
  
  
  


The rest of the day is a slow, warm dissolve.   
  
  
  


In the shower, Keith sits on their bench and lets Shiro spread various oils on his raw little pussy. Shiro kneels between his legs and sets a tray of shower things on the tiles next to him. Exfoliants, vials of oil, creams, things that bubble. Shiro uncaps a vial with his mouth, filling the hot, shower air with the deep, earthy scent of vetiver. His fingers are methodical and thorough, they soothe Keith’s skin till it glistens. Till it’s pink and creamy, no longer raw from the sheets. Gorgeous. All for Shiro. Shiro kisses it like a fresh bandaid on a boo-boo. 

Keith giggles like he’s drunk. Maybe it’s the steam from the shower or maybe he’s finally coming around to all of Shiro’s ridiculous soaps. He points the twisty, detachable showerhead at Shiro’s neck. Warm water falls down Shiro’s back. It pours down his arm and the place where his other arm should be. The water feels good there, against the scarred tissue. Shiro lets himself enjoy the feeling. 

“I can’t believe we did that,” Keith tells him.

Shiro feels himself smirk against the inside of Keith’s knee. Does Keith mean the sheets or the conference call? He nibbles up Keith’s thigh, chaste until it’s not, “Can’t you?”

  
  
  
  


Shiro traps Keith against the shower wall, cheek to glass. He grabs the fat on Keith’s ass to lift him onto his cock and Keith has to get up on his tippy toes to accommodate it. It’s the most adorable thing Shiro has ever seen.

Shiro wants to make Keith sing for him. 

“Oh, baby. Take it,” he feeds him his cock. “Right there.”

The water pours directly over Keith, soaking his hair against his neck and his strong, lean shoulders. It pours down the column of his spine and the lovely curve of his ass. His pussy sops with shower water, thinning Keith’s natural, silky wetness. And Shiro loves to squelch inside of it, loves how it makes Keith’s pussy _stick_ to him. 

Keith writhes. He tries to reach for his clit to ease the cling, the hurt, to make his pussy slippery again, but Shiro stops him and stills himself inside of Keith. He feels himself pulse, “Yeah? Hurts good doesn’t it, baby?”

Barely to be heard over the gush of the water and Shiro’s heaving breath Keith whispers it. Tiny, delectable, involuntary, repulsive.

“What was that? Say it again.”

“ _Daddy_. My pussy hurts.”

Shiro’s vision blurs. The steam is making him sweat. His cock aches. It wants to move. It wants to fuck. “I could spit on it. Would you like that?”

Keith nods, real fast, splashing water, desperate.

“Yeah? Beg for it.”

Keith stutters. Shiro, Shiro, Shiro, _Shiro_ , over and over.

“Go on. Beg for my spit.”

Keith wiggles himself frantically on Shiro’s cock. Shiro gives Keith’s ass a spank. As if that’s going to be good enough for him, “Use your words baby. Cmon.”

“Please,” Keith sobs. “Spit on my pussy. Make it feel good.” 

Shiro spits down Keith’s ass and messes it over Keith’s pussy with his fingers. He spits again and fucks it into Keith. Yeah. He paws down Keith’s soft, wet skin. Down his back, his hip, around his waist to his tummy where he can feel himself pound into Keith. Long, hard, cruel strokes. The water feels good. Hot. It washes all the spit and precome away.

It makes Keith squirmy. Noisy. He begs Shiro for more of his spit. 

Shiro says no with his cock and Keith heaves. “I wanna touch my clit. L-let me touch it.”

Shiro smushes Keith’s cheek against the glass. “No, baby. Please,” Shiro fucks into him deep and hard, “No, just a little more. Yes. Yeah. Good boy.”

Keith screams. His legs _shake_. Only for Shiro. He’d only do this for Shiro. Because Keith’s pussy belongs to Shiro. “I have you,” he curls over Keith’s body and mouths at his ear. The shower water beats down the back of his head as his hand slides down to cup Keith’s pussy. Water drips along his cheeks and gets in his mouth. “Gonna come inside,” he spreads Keith’s pussy lips apart between his fingers, right where he can feel the gait of his cock, “I’ll take care of it. Baby. Gonna make it slippery again. Just how you like it. Breed this pussy full of come.”

The water feels so good in Keith’s pussy. Searing. Shiro is close. So close he’s lucid, just wants to make Keith’s pussy vicious with his come. Their shower is a steamy bliss and Shiro presses his forehead to Keith's shoulder and rocks into the white-hot heat of Keith’s impossible delicious pussy, Keith, Keith, _Keith_. 

“That’s it, Keith. Baby, fuck back. Bounce on it. Tell me you want it inside of you. Tell me, tell me.” 

Shiro comes to the sound of skin slapping skin.

  
  
  
  


Shiro’s not ready to go work after their shower so he and Keith hunch over the blueprint of Keith’s new engineering project. Keith’s idea of fun is building a functioning cruiser out of junk. Shiro loves nothing more than to geek out with Keith about it. And suddenly they’re teenage schoolboys, and it makes Shiro wonder if this is the sort of thing they’d be doing had they gone to the same school and been in the same class in their days before the Garrison. Just boys, obsessed with touching stars.

“Tell me a secret?” asks Shiro.

“Is this your way of stalling before you have to go?”

“Yep.”

Keith’s smile is big and nearly as bright as his eyes, “A secret?”

“Yes,” Shiro grins. “Anything.”

“Hmmm..”

“Cmon,” Shiro playfully nudges him.

“Well, there is one thing.”

Shiro perks up like a happy, wagging dog.

“Do you really want to know?”

Shiro nods. 

Keith motions with his hand for Shiro to lean in for the secret, “It’s about your conference call from earlier.”

Shiro leans in and Keith whispers into his ear, “I love it when you come in my mouth.”

 _Scoff_ , as if Shiro wasn’t already completely and totally fucked. 

  
  
  
  


Their couch is the comfiest thing aboard the Atlas. It’s made comfier by Keith, who’s lap Shiro rests his head on. 

“He was just a cadet,” Shiro tries to say.

“Yeah, exactly. Who did he think he was, the Queen of Sheba?”

“But...” Shiro tries to say.

Keith rolls his eyes. “But nothing, he was asking for it.”

“Right,” Shiro chuckles, “So you beat him into the mat?”

“Yeah, with my eyes closed.”

“With your eyes closed!” Shiro simply loved playing along.

“Yeah. I was like,” he gestured with his hand, “what did you say about me being ‘too tiny to spar’?”

“That’s my boy.”

“I guess..” Keith sighs in that boyish way of his, “I guess I have a bit of a temper, so. Yeah. Whatever.”

They laugh about it. Keith at the silly memory of it, probably, and Shiro because he adores the way Keith’s teeth show when he laughs, like some sort of picture-perfect contagion. Keith starts to play with his hair again, as he often does, because he knows how much Shiro loves it, and they stay like that for some time, talking on the couch. Long enough for Shiro to nurse a soppy, Keith-shaped ache in his chest. 

“Mm, that feels good. Thank you baby,” he says. Thank you for being so supportive of me, for making bad days sweet, I love you, I love you, Oh, how I love you, is what he means to say. 

Shiro remembers a time, not as long ago as he thinks, before they got married. A point in time when Shiro had been lost and confused. There’s something wonderful about it now that he recalls the memory from the comfort of Keith’s lap. 

_“Do you want to talk about it?” Keith asks him._

_“About what?”_

_“What you’re actually stressed about.”_

_Shiro just looks at him. He honestly cannot believe a goodness like Keith exists in this world, in his world. He must have been staring quite deeply because Keith blushes and shakes his head like he knows something Shiro doesn’t, “Shiro. I know you.”_

_Shiro knows he knows. The call of the stars, the very universe itself, and its golden white, burning light of quintessence._

_No, Shiro doesn’t want to talk about it. Not now. Not today. Not yet, not quite, it feels too much like destiny._

  
  
  


They eventually replace the bedsheets and Keith ends up making Shiro a late lunch. It’s a simple meal, Keith doesn’t cook and neither does Shiro for that matter, but it’s as thoughtful as homemade cherry pie.

  
  
  


" _Daddy_ ,” Keith whines at the bruising angle of his cock. He loves the way Keith says it. Baser. Like Keith honest-to-goodness _needs_ something from him. 

“What is it?” Shiro shudders. “Tell me. What is it, baby?”

Shiro’s got Keith bent over their kitchen table. Keith looks over his shoulder like a sweetheart before turning himself around to face Shiro, “Like this,” he brings his arms up like he wants Shiro to lift him. “Please.”

“Look at that pretty little face.” How can Shiro resist him, “Anything for you.”

Shiro wraps his arm around Keith’s waist and takes him into his chest. Shiro loves that he can throw Keith around like this. Powerful, beautiful Keith. He sets him atop their table.

Shiro’s cock is eager. He taps it on Keith’s pussy a few times, “This what you want baby?”

  
  
  


Shiro doesn’t go back to work for the rest of the day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nonsense aside, writing about these boys was a much needed paradise

**Author's Note:**

> (˵ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°˵)


End file.
